


Smoked Out

by Joules Mer (joulesmer)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Humor, James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 17:27:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19468687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joulesmer/pseuds/Joules%20Mer
Summary: There was one thing Jim couldn’t figure out about his friend...





	Smoked Out

Bones had this _scent_ sometimes— it reminded Jim of old bars and late nights where something woodsy mingled with something almost bitter. Old-fashioned. It was a take-it or leave-it kind of thing at first, but the more time they spent together the more Jim caught himself stealing a sniff. Whatever it was he kind of _liked_ it. 

One night when Jim picked Bones up at his dorm and they were loitering around on the pretence of getting ready to go out, the doctor brushing past him brought a whiff of scent and Jim just blurted out, “What’s your cologne?”

“Huh?” Bones didn’t look up from where he appeared to be considering two nearly identical grey t-shirts.

Sensing an opportunity to see for himself, Jim changed the question, “Where’s your cologne?”

Distracted, Bones waved a hand absently, “Shelf above the sink.” 

Taking that as permission, Jim dove into the tiny bathroom and rummaged through the glass cabinet. Pulling out a small bottle, he upcapped it and… huh? Jim pressed a fingertip to the opening and brought it to his nose. It was nice— understated, masculine, something mossy and green like freshly mowed fields, but not what he’d expected.

Poking his head back into the main room, Jim found the other man still vacillating between the shirts. “The one on the left— it shows off your arms.” Waving the bottle around the doorframe, he asked, “Is this all you wear?”

“Yeah.” Dropping the shirt in his right hand, Bones’ eyebrows furrowed together, “Why?”

Jim shrugged, a little embarrassed, “It’s not what I expected, that’s all.”

Bones tugged the shirt over his head, smoothing it over his stomach and injecting a teasing note into his tone as he asked, “You trying to tell me I stink?”

“No! Bones, you…” realizing he was walking into a trap, Jim finished lamely, “smell good.”

“Well sorry Jimmy-boy, that’s all McCoy.”

“It’s not though, it’s…” Jim waved a hand, trying to indicate that it was something more than just a natural musk.

Bones stilled, the beginnings of a blush forming on his cheeks as he muttered, “Oh, Hell.” Clearing his throat, Bones muttered, “I hadn’t realized it was noticeable…”

Sensing embarrassment, Jim went for the jugular, “So how do you smell so good? Bathing in the blood of virgins on the crossroads at midnight?”

Bones rubbed a hand over his face, upsetting his carefully parted hair as he reluctantly explained, “Jocelyn was into these ‘historical reenactment meetups’...” 

It was such an unexpected statement Jim had to suppress the urge to interject. Historical reenactment meetups? If the next words out of Bones’ mouth involved wearing armor and sprinkling his speech with ‘prithee’ Jim was never going to let him live it down.

“She’d go all in: old-fashioned twentieth century clothing, drinks… and habits.”

“Habits?”

Bones seemed to be fighting an internal battle, and losing. “Dammit,” he strode over to his dresser and opened the top drawer with a jerk, removing something small and tossing it towards the younger man.

Reflexively caching, Jim opened his hands and looked, “These are…” His voice trailed off in surprise.

“Cigarettes,” Bones confirmed.

Turning the package over in his hands, Jim traced the outline of a camel on one side as he asked, “Are they real?”

“Of course they’re real.”

“Like with fire and everything?”

Reaching into the drawer again, Bones pulled out a little silver rectangle; a practiced move with one hand made it split open and a flame emerge.

“That’s a—” the word was unfamiliar on Jim’s tongue, “lighter.”

“Zippo lighter— you don’t want to know what it cost.” Bones flipped the little device closed and for all its supposed expense simply tossed it back into the drawer.

“So you smoke?”

“Sometimes.”

“Are you addicted to them?” Jim barked out a laugh of disbelief, “Is that even a thing nowadays?”

Bones crossed his arms over his chest. “I can stop whenever I want.”

“Oh my god— you are! You totally are!” Impulsively, Jim tossed the package back and said, “Do it.”

“What?”

“Let me see.” Jim waved a hand expectantly, trying to mimic the motion he’d seen in old movies, “Light up.”

Bones rolled his eyes, but retrieved the lighter from the drawer and pulled a cigarette from the box. Jim watched with rapt attention as the older man gripped the cigarette between his lips and lit it with practiced ease. Bones inhaled and blew a cloud towards the younger man, just to see if he could make Jim cough.

When the younger man’s eyes watered, but he resolutely didn’t make a sound, Bones took another drag and casually sucked the smoke from his mouth to his nose.

At the sight of the French inhale Jim’s jaw dropped. “Holy shit— you can do _tricks_?”

Bones blew a smoke ring towards Jim, “Obviously.”

“Can I try?”

“You are _not_ taking up smoking! Jesus, Jim, are you crazy?”

“Night out is cancelled,” Jim announced as he flopped onto the small sofa and grabbed a padd off the coffee table, “Pour us a drink— the _good_ bourbon. You’re going to show me everything you can do, and then we’re going to look up what the recommended detox regimen is these days so nicotine addiction isn’t on your official record. Can you imagine trying to manage cravings on a starship?”

“I’m not going on a starship!”

“Sure you are,” Jim patted the sofa beside him expectantly and Bones sighed. Retrieving a dish to use as an ashtray, the older man dropped onto the cushions beside Jim, taking a long drag to steady his nerves.

Tapping away at his padd, Jim said, “Hey, Bones, look at this: if I hypo you every day for a week you’ll be pretty much cured. We can order the drug online and off the record. Ooooh, they’re IM injections— I can shoot you in the _ass_.” Jim looked positively giddy at the thought.

Bones took another drag and blew a lazy cloud towards the ceiling, slumping further into the sofa— it was going to be a long night.


End file.
